Star-Crossed
by Green Eyes Mesmerize
Summary: Oneshot of the famous tango scene in Sly 2: Band of Thieves. He was there to steal the Clockwerk wings. She was there to arrest a criminal. With one dance under the stars, someone could end up with their heart stolen, as well. EDITED & REPOSTED.


**Disclaimer: **Sly Cooper and company belong to Sucker Punch, not me.

**Author's Note: **Edited and re-posted after I had accidentally posted under the wrong profile. This was my first Sly fic from a few years ago. I've always enjoyed the love-hate thing between him and Carmelita, and their tango at Rajan's palace is my favorite scene in the second game. The normal text is Carmelita's POV and the bold is Sly.

* * *

_**Star-Crossed**_

"Impressive, is it not?"

At the sound of that deep purring voice, I turned from the giant golden statue I had been studying on the dais of the ballroom. The turbaned tiger, standing beside me with one paw behind his back and the other holding a wooden staff, regarded the sculpture with assuredly more admiration than I did.

"It is, Your Lordship," I answered, humoring Rajan with the title he had bought by questionable means. Beautiful it was, the image of a serene cat goddess with multiple arms, seated in a meditative pose. Of more concern to me were the features that added to its interest and yet were considerably out of place: a massive pair of steel-gray wings. I knew they were not simply a different color gold; they were a rare alloy that could last forever, as their original owner had lasted far longer than was natural for any living being. Those wings had belonged to the world's most notorious and dangerous criminal: Clockwerk. Two years after his demise, the would-be immortal owl's body parts now served as tools and trophies for the modern criminal. Such an idea defied both nature and the law.

I glanced sideways and caught the eye of Constable Neyla. My tigress partner looked very much the part of a native countrywoman to Rajan and of a distinguished guest at tonight's ball, in her midriff-baring Bollywood-style beige outfit and espadrilles and the ever present ruby on her forehead. Her cat green eyes flicked toward the Clockwerk wings and then back to me with a nod. One way or another, once we had reasonable grounds to bust Rajan for his part in the illegal spice cartel, those wings and their current owner were coming home with Interpol.

**So far so good. The disguise was working perfectly; as Bentley observed via communicator, no one recognized me in the tuxedo I had "borrowed" from the guesthouse on the palace grounds. Guests and guards passed by and no one gave me a second look. If they did, it was a look of interest; I took that as a sign that my state of attire was up to snuff. I was blending in but at the same time standing out in a way that did not arouse suspicion.**

**Before I could preen too much, Bentley's nasally voice brought me back to the task at hand. "I've figured out a way to get the Clockwerk wings out of the ballroom. You'll have to dance with Carmelita to keep her and the rest of the crowd distracted."**

**My heart did a little flip at that. Dancing under the stars with the lovely Inspector Carmelita Fox…a heretofore nearly impossible fantasy that would finally come true.**

"**The only problem is…"**

**A rather unwelcome and frequent phrase among many similar sentiments from my pragmatic terrapin friend. There's always a catch.**

"…**She's picky about dance partners, so you'll really have to impress her first."**

**Small setback, but like the many we've come across in our thieving careers, easily overcome. As I descended the staircase that ran flush with the wall curving around the ballroom, my eyes fell on one particular guest: a familiar-looking violet-furred tigress in a very Indian ensemble, with a ruby on her forehead whose chain ran back through black hair long and loose, hair which usually stayed out of sight beneath a traditional veil of crimson satin. I had caught sight of her while taking reconnaissance photos earlier and inwardly commended Constable Neyla for playing the part of distinguished guest to a **_**T. **_**Considering her penchant for collaborating with criminals toward a common goal, I didn't think she'd mind if I gave her a job in our operation.**

"**No problem," I whispered to Bentley now. "I know just the girl for the job." With that, I approached my prospective partner.**

"**Constable Neyla," I addressed her, but in a low enough tone that only she could hear it. "You look lovely this evening."**

**She stood with her arms crossed, taking in the scene around her with a critical eye, before turning to me. Without meeting my gaze at first she instead studied my outfit. Disguising the Cockney in her voice, she replied with the air of an arrogant aristocrat, not breaking her cover character for a second: "I'm sorry, do I know you?"**

"**I used to chase after you back in Paris," I clued her in with a conspiratorial smirk, referencing her assistance with the recent heist of the Clockwerk tail feathers from KLAWW Gang member Dimitri.**

"**Paris…?" she repeated. Recognition lit up her emerald eyes, and her normal accent returned. "Sly Cooper?!"**

**I cocked my head to one side and nodded.**

"**You aren't here by chance to turn yourself in? Old Ironsides would fall out of her dress."**

**Neyla's reference was clear, and over her shoulder I saw the charming woman in question, wearing a little black dress with a sweetheart neckline that flattered her every curve and feature—which made the notion of her falling out of said dress all the more enticing—with matching black stilettos and gloves, her blue-black curls swept up and away from her lovely face. At that point, Carmelita happened to glance in our direction, no doubt keeping track of her partner. Our eyes met for a moment, and before she turned back to the person she had been speaking to, I saw in her gaze the glint of curious interest. Perfect.**

"**As good as that sounds," I said now to Neyla, offering a gloved hand, "how about a dance first?"**

**The tigress smiled. "Enchanté."**

**As if on cue, the band began to play. I led my partner by the hand out to the middle of the floor in order that everyone in the room could see us, and placed my other hand at the middle of her back; though I was of course taking advantage of her in pursuit of a heist, I would be a gentleman while going about it. The piano and violin offered a tango, the ultimate in romantic rhythms. Perfect to impress Carmelita **_**and**_** perhaps make her a little jealous. At the right moment, we took our first steps.**

I watched the whole scene from my position near the statue. Neyla's feline grace matched her mysterious dance partner's smooth style. In his royal violet tuxedo and blue dancing shoes, he cut a dashing figure. Everyone else in the room had missed the memo to wear a mask; it was the only part of his outfit that was out-of-place. At the same time, however, on him it just seemed right, fitting, adding to his suave air of mystery. He and Neyla were looking good on the dance floor, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. Among the approving murmurs, one exchange from a certain party of interest caught my ear.

"That fellow moves rather gracefully," Rajan commented to someone beside him.

I dared not look in his direction, but I recognized the voice of his companion. Jean Bison, another member of the KLAWW gang, countered gruffly, "If only you moved spice shipments as well."

"Silence!" Rajan cut him off before someone overheard the incriminating exchange.

Unfortunately for them, I could hear quite well even from the other side of the statue. My ears pricked up at the offhanded comment—verbal evidence that the KLAWW gang was dealing in illegal spice. Discreetly I scanned the ballroom for my other partner. On one of the upper level balconies I saw her: the Contessa, criminal psychologist and Interpol's best prison warden. The black widow spider in the scarlet dress was keeping an eye on the ballroom, as well. When she looked in my direction, I reached up to smooth my hair and adjust my right earring; it was the signal we had agreed upon beforehand to let her and Neyla know that I was on to something. The Contessa gave an unsmiling nod in response. Once I got a chance I would touch base with her and assess the situation.

**We stepped and twirled in time, matching each other beat for beat. Though anxious to claim Carmelita as my dance partner, I was enjoying myself. Clearly so was Neyla.**

"**Are you using me to get at Old Ironsides?" she asked frankly.**

"**Yes, I am." No sense in beating around the bush with this policewoman-turned-ally. "Do you mind?"**

**The conspiratorial smile matched the twinkle in her eye. "Not at all."**

**And on we danced, until the last note of the song found us particularly close, facing each other almost nose-to-nose as I dipped her backward. Her purr of pleasure, not lost on my ears, was seductive; I had to admit she was an attractive creature who merited interest, but not enough to make me forget the one I really wanted in my arms.**

"**Thank you," said Neyla after I let her up, "that was delightful."**

**Indeed it was, a perfect prelude to what was to come. "Thank **_**you**_**, Constable Neyla," I answered. "After all...it takes two to tango."**

**Her eyes flicked to the side, and she frowned slightly. When I followed her gaze, I saw the reason: Carmelita was coming over, just what we had planned. Though Neyla knew this, she appeared annoyed that we should be interrupted. "Yes," she observed dryly, "and three is always a crowd."**

**The vixen in black with a gold star pendant—which I hoped for her sake nobody recognized as a police badge—sidled up to us. "Neyla," Carmelita addressed the tigress, careful not to use her title, "your friend here is quite an accomplished dancer."**

"**I tried to make him look good," Neyla joked.**

**Carmelita gave a saucy roll of the eyes. "Please, Neyla, his skills far surpass you."**

**I chose this moment to make my first move, addressing the beautiful woman but pretending not to know her. "Perhaps later you and I might share a dance, Miss...?"**

"**Miss Fox," she finished for me as she flipped some loose curls off her neck, eyes narrowed with interest, a smile playing on her lips. "Carmelita Fox. And, I accept."**

My inner coquette was coming out as I flirted and accepted the invitation from the handsome stranger. Ballroom etiquette had it that a lady did not refuse a dance with any gentleman who asked, but this one I would never have refused, anyway. I wanted to know more about him, get closer…and really, could one get any closer to another person than to be in his arms on the dance floor? Besides, I might learn something else that would aid the investigation. Strictly business, I told myself.

But the flutter in my stomach said otherwise.

_**x-o-x-o-x**_

"What!? The bridge is destroyed?"

Rajan, still perched on his throne a few hours into the ball, growled at two of his guards. From what I had heard, the bridge connecting the main grounds to the guest house had collapsed…not just collapsed, but bombed out.

"Take all the manpower you need and look into it!" The guards lumbered away to do their lord's bidding. For my part, I hoped they could not fix it. Whoever had taken out the bridge had inadvertently—or intentionally—helped Interpol tonight; when we made our move to arrest Rajan and his henchmen, at least one possible escape route was closed to them.

**Everything was falling into place. Thanks to Bentley's demolition skills, the bridge to the guest house was out, cutting off any backup from Rajan's lackeys and drawing the ballroom guards away from witnessing our shenanigans in here. Air security around the palace grounds was disabled. We had a good strong hacksaw forged from the rubies that had previously decorated Rajan's prized elephants. Bentley had hacked the computer controls to the winch above the ballroom, allowing us access to lower Murray down to saw the Clockwerk wings off the statue. Time for the job I was waiting for, which to me felt like no job at all: the dance with Carmelita. I was itching to step out onto the dance floor with that beautiful vixen in my arms.**

"**Murray, you in position?" I whispered into the communicator and then looked up. There was my hippopotamus accomplice, already dangling out of sight above the ballroom, ready to lower down and get the wings.**

"**Check!" he answered, confirming what I already saw.**

"**It looks like Bentley's little distraction did the trick," I observed, then instructed, "Initiate phase two: I'll take care of Carmelita and the crowd, you handle the heavy lifting." Right on time, Carmelita walked out onto the dance floor, subtly looking around for the mysterious partner who had asked for a dance. Well, here I was, and it wouldn't do to keep a lady waiting. "Miss Fox," I addressed her as I approached, "I believe you owe me a dance?"**

**She crossed her arms and looked at me sideways. Charming attitude, as always. "About time. I thought you'd left."**

**I smiled and offered my hand. "Just waiting for the perfect moment."**

**And in that perfect moment, the music came on. My hand slipped around her waist, high enough not to alarm her but low enough to feel intimate and personal. For all I knew, she could have been concealing her shock pistol somewhere beneath that dress; the last thing I wanted to do was to get too fresh and have her retaliate with electrifying fury. We stepped boldly in time together, easily surpassing the grace of my first tango with Constable Neyla. This was something more, an expression of the feelings I couldn't show Carmelita when we faced each other as cop and thief.**

I felt a frisson of pleasure ripple through me as we danced. It was so cliché, a romantic dance with a mysterious masked stranger…but now that I was experiencing it for myself, it was exciting. Besides that, the strange thing was that this guy didn't feel like a total stranger…it was like I knew him from somewhere.

"You look familiar to me," I asked as we paused for a beat during the tango, cocking my head to the side and studying him momentarily. "Are you in law enforcement?"

He smirked and answered, "I often deal with police while on the job."

**The dance continued. I stole a glance at Rajan, who was sitting there watching us, an entranced smile on his feline face. Everyone was watching us, and therefore no one was looking up at the ceiling, where Murray was lifting the wings away. At one point during the tango when we both tilted back our heads, my eyes quickly darted to Murray's position. He was home free with the Wings; I saw them disappear with him once he winched himself back up to the opening in the ceiling. Just like everything else during this operation, it was perfect timing: the notes of the tango were sliding toward the end. But truly, I didn't want it to end. Who knew when I would have another chance like this with the woman of my dreams?**

**On the last note, the dance ended with us positioned closer than ever, pressed up against each other nose to nose, close enough to kiss. Considering it had been two years since I had kissed her at the site of Clockwerk's demise, it took all my resolve not to take the present opportunity.**

**I held onto her as long as I could without seeming too forward, not knowing when I would ever get this chance again. When I did release her, I sensed in her the same reluctance to part. But she coquettishly tilted her head to one side again and flashed me another flirtatious smile. "Tell me, stranger, what's your name?"**

**Of course I couldn't tell her that. Just like Romeo in his own star-crossed meeting, this masked romantic had to make an exit before revealing himself as my Juliet's enemy. So with a sly smile I just said, "Why ruin the moment?"**

My brow knit up in confusion. "Huh? I...I don't understand."

But if my mysterious dance partner had an explanation, I never got to hear it.

"The Wings! What happened to the Clockwerk wings?"

I whirled around to find Rajan staring goggle-eyed at the goddess statue, which was in fact now bereft of the Clockwerk wings…the very subject I was supposed to monitor all evening besides Rajan himself.

"What? How?"

I clutched my head in disbelief that two massive pieces of steel had been stolen right out from under my nose. "Who could have...?" Turning around, about to ask my partner if he had seen anything, I was further baffled to find that the masked stranger had vanished. At the same time, I felt something in my hair. "What...?" I pulled the foreign object out of my curls to find a twofold surprise. In my hand was a red rose, and with it a card in the shape of an emblem I knew too well: the masked face of a raccoon.

My hands balled into fists, my anger mounting at the realization that I had been taken in completely by a stranger who was no stranger at all. He had distracted me and the crowd so his friends could swipe the wings without anyone noticing. Were his identity clear to me from the start, he was close enough that I could have subdued and arrested him right then and there…but he had taken advantage of the stars in my eyes to cross my path unrecognized. I had let my guard down—seduced by a dance, during which we had been close enough that he could have kissed me…the way he kissed me two years ago at the Krak-Karov volcano in Russia. He had trapped me tonight, just as he had trapped me then, distracted me enough to get what he wanted and make his getaway.

Like Juliet, I knew the presence of an enemy only when it was too late. But this Juliet had no illusions of star-crossed lovers. Furious that I had been deceived, used, and foiled once again—that I had let my focus on duty burn to ash in the heat of desire—I exploded. "COOPER!"


End file.
